twenty-fourteen

Heartache for 2014: the desire to scoop it up, determined not to let it pass too quickly, and to make the most of it while I have it.

There's something to be said about being able to share your heart with someone in person. To look into their eyes and be there for them, to laugh together or hold them when they're crying. Writing doesn't even come close. The way the words tumble out and your thoughts come together and things start to make sense even as you explain them - and then you realize that you're talking more to yourself than to your friend. The inflections, the passion, the pain - it's all there. Written on your sleeve, pouring out in conversation and encouragement and challenging.

I just felt the sudden urge to recognize the importance of a face-to-face over written words. I will always be a writer, but when it comes to important things of the heart, conversing is usually more impacting. 

With all that said, I can't talk to each of you who read this blog. Boy, I wish I could. Even now, there are some who read the blog whom I ache to see face-to-face. It's hard. 

And this is now where the writing comes in. It's a filler - a book in a coffee shop instead of a friend in person. And it'll have to do. 

Lately I've been trying to organize, clean up, rearrange. My thoughts about the new year are still emerging. So this is when I start writing this to share with you, but realize that I'm figuring it out as I go along. I don't know where or how I'm going to end this post, but I know it'll come around just how it's supposed to be. 

I also don't know how to describe 2014. I know, I know in my bones that it's going to be a special year. I already have some reasons for that. But those reasons also give me sadness, a kind of pre-regret. I know how much this year will mean to me, and how much I will try to soak in every. last. moment. But I have problems with this. I prep myself to slow down, to taste and see - but I overthink it. Then it's tedious and I end up not enjoying the moment. I read a well-loved book, racing, racing till the end, where I know Polly and Tom will realize they love each other, and I want to soak in every word. I get to the last chapter and am so busy trying to take it in that I miss the simple beauty of it all. 

And that's a problem. 

I know this about myself, that I try to slow things down too much and hold them back and miss out on the present. 

{Have you ever heard a story like this? We all hear challenges to slow down, to not miss the here and now. But have you ever heard of someone on the opposite end - someone who takes herself too seriously and misses out on the present - the gift - by opposite measures?

Well, that's me. I know, I'm weird. I was also told that by one of my best friends years ago when it was discovered that I didn't like chocolate.}

So, back to 2014: I'm afraid. I'm afraid of missing out. 

I'm afraid of looking back and not making the best use of every moment, or of getting stuck *in* the moment and not seeing what mattered. 

That's kind of where I am as the new year comes this week. Every year, I feel more and more like the moms and dads who sigh "these kids are growing up too fast - everything is flying by." Is it really already December 31, y'all? 

I wanted the build up. I want the joy of waiting, even as I can't wait any longer. I don't want it to go by too quickly. 

My year is starting off with a bang. Something I've been waiting for for four years is finally here. I made it into the Texas Private School Music Educators Association (TPSMEA) all-state choir. It's been a huge dream of mine that got bigger and bigger every year as I tried out during high school. When I found out that I had made it (along with some of my best friends), I definitely understood what cloud nine was about. 

Now we're waiting. We've waited from November to January, when we're going to have the best time ever. But now, January's actually here. It was always a "oh my goodness I can't wait for January, can you believe we're going?" Yes, and we're leaving next week for region weekend. It's here, y'all.

On top of that, this is senior year. Wow. 

On an old private blog of mine, I wrote a post two years ago titled "Sentimental Sophomore." It's lame to reuse titles, but it fits even better - means something deeper - this year. I can't even recount what 2013 has meant to me. Spiritually, relationally, emotionally. It's been one of those roller-coasters, and we're going for a second spin. But it's a good thing, isn't it? To know what it means to grow, to learn how to cry, how to feel, how to understand and connect and forgive and be forgiven. 

As I stalk Pinterest this week, I've been itching for one of my own to start a 2014 board. It's so inspiring to look though the glittering gold, spring pastel colored pins, brimming with simple quotes that invoke the drive to do better, to make the most, to enjoy the little joys and chase after the big dreams. It's beautiful. But even as I'm writing this post, I found a provoking pin:

Pretty pictures won't solve anything. 

Yes. I have to keep reminding myself that it's not all nice words and cute colors. There's something so much deeper that these quotes and sayings only touch on. 

Then I thought about another pin I had found:

"There are years that ask questions, and years that answer." - Zora Neale Hurston

When I look back on 2013, I can see both. I can see some answers that emerged to questions I didn't know I had. I can see new questions that are wrapped around my head as I start the new year - questions to which, I know, I will start learning the answers very soon. 

I remember reading a new year's post by Hannah Nicole about her word for the year 2013, steadfast. I loved the idea, and thinking on it now, I realize how exactly I come to pick words. I'm looking back; I'm seeing the year that just passed. I can think of words that describe 2013, that I can carry into 2014 with me to remember, to guide. But to pick a "next year's word," it would need to come from some context and background. I can't pick one to be a theme for the new year without it coming from somewhere - it has to already mean something to me. So, I'm choosing a set of words that 2013 gave me, which I want to carry me into 2014. 

Honest. Steadfast. Real. Passion. Grace. Deep.

On top of the personal things of 2013, there's some lessons only seniors can go through. To put it simply, one is reality. The reality of what happens after graduation. When friends leave, when plans change, when those good friends turn out to be "friends from high school." This hurts so much. Good intentions are faded away by distance, time, and priorities. It just happens. 

Most of my friends are juniors this year, but I have a few senior friends, including one best friend my age. I know which of my "sisters" will remain close to me, because we've already done time together. I won't lose those, no matter how far away we go. But the other friends, the ones not as close, are the ones I'm afraid to lose. 

And so, there is just another reason that life is bittersweet. The good and the bad, the beautiful mess, and the pain and the growth. It's all tied inextricably together, and I'm seeing it emerge in this last year of high school. 

Conversations about what to do with my life, what to study, where to go, how to get there, have all surfaced. They're serious things, and not to be taken lightly. But those things have been coming together in a way that I'm planning on sharing a bit later :)

Senior year has gone by way too quickly, and I have only one semester left. This adds to both the excitement and sadness of 2014: the bittersweet. There are so many grand, brilliant adventures waiting, and I have to trust that those that are truly important will satisfactorily make it into and permanently reside in my journal - and more importantly, my heart. 

So here's to 2014, our best year yet. Almost overflowing with memories waiting to be made, sparkling with indescribable opportunities, joys, discoveries, plans, purpose, and grace.